Remember when we went to the one place?
by winter machine
Summary: "Remember when we watched the one deleted scene? No, not the one with the shoe, the one with the toothbrushes?" This completed three-parter picks up right after Addison and Derek discuss the place with the bed, as requested by simbagirl. Pure, unadulterated Addek trash on a rainy Wednesday. A little angsty and a little fluffy, season 2 reconciliation. COMPLETE.
1. PART I

**A/N: The Addek Revolution continues! ... with another shameless new story BUT** with good reason. See, today's not Fluffy Friday but it _is_ Wednesday, which I hereby dub _Wow (I Love My Readers) Wednesday,_ because this story was prompted by and written for **simbagirl.** She asked for a story that took off from the infamous Season 2 deleted Addek scenes (I don't need to ask Addek lovers if they've seen them, it's like asking if you've seen the sun). You'll recognize the beginning; it starts with the well-known toothbrush scene, and takes off from there.

 **Simbagirl** requested a two-shot. And I was pretty obedient ... in the sense that this is a three-shot, but I'm posting all three parts now. Big meows to **simbagirl** for an awesome prompt.

I hope you'll read and enjoy and let me know what you think!

* * *

 _ **Remember when we went to the one place?  
**_

 _ **..**_

 **PART I**

* * *

A gentle rain patters the trailer, pale morning light slicing through the windows.

"Remember when we went to the one place?" Addison's voice is soft with reminiscence, trickling into the tiny bathroom. He turns to see she's bracing the open door with one hand stretched out, toothbrush hanging loosely in her other hand.

"With the boat?" Derek asks, stepping out of the bathroom and poising the toothpaste over her brush. She holds it still while he squeezes out a strip of paste. Like she always has.

She shakes her head. "No, no, not the boat." She lifts the brush toward her lips, then seems to think better of it. "The boat was, um, was that other place."

"With the bed," he recalls.

He looks up at her, feeling the beginning of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Her blue-silk-clad arm is right next to his head; she's inches away, the band holding back her hair reminding him of what she used to look like a long time.

Before any of this.

Before Seattle.

Before Meredith.

Before Mark.

She smiles fully. "Yeah, the big bed. And those sheets. And room service." Her expression is half coaxing, half longing. "Remember the fireplace? No one ate my shoes there."

Her laugh sounds like bells when it echoes in the small space. They change places as if they've planned it, and brush their teeth in tandem.

His words come out abruptly, uncensored, surprising himself.

"We should go back there."

She emerges from the bathroom, the same emotion written on her face.

"Yeah?"

Hope flickers in her eyes.

"Yeah." He pauses. "Yeah," he says again, more finally this time.

Eyes sparkling, she leans in for a kiss.

Then they switch places again, their choreographed morning routine even if they're used to doing it someplace much bigger.

He laughs, half nervous and half pleased, and she laughs too – hers is tinged with something else. Is it relief?

She looks over her shoulder at him, practically dancing away, her laughter playful.

He rinses his mouth, feeling a certain lightness he wasn't expecting.

"Derek?"

He wipes his face with the hanging towel and emerges to swap places with her again. She looks pensive.

"Yeah?"

"Let's go back there."

"Okay." He waits for her to rinse; she does, then pats her face dry the way she always does, and then emerges from the bathroom.

Pace, pace, turn.

He recognizes her footfalls; she's planning something.

"No, I mean let's go back there ... now," she clarifies.

"Now?"

"Yeah, now."

"Go back there now," he repeats doubtfully.

"Yeah. Now."

"Addison." His brows draw together. "The place with the bed is in Rhode Island."

"I know that."

"And we're in Seattle."

"I know that too. It's silly. It's just ..." She pauses. "Never mind."

A mask has descended; her face no longer looks open. Sorry, closed for business.

"It's not silly."

"Forget it." She moves past him into the bathroom to straighten her already perfect hair; on her way back out he touches a silk-covered arm to get her attention.

"We can ... plan a vacation," he says tentatively, "if that's what you -"

"Derek, I said forget it. It's fine."

Feeling a little uncertain, he offers another kiss; she accepts even if it isn't what she wanted.

..

"Luxury Seattle getaways?"

He reads the words over her shoulder, studying the accompanying photograph. It's a breathtaking evening shot of a craftsman style building cut into the side of a mountain, green spruce and blue river competing for first beauty prize.

She jumps a little, apparently not having heard him approach.

"Derek … you startled me."

He squints at the picture. _A spa and a lodge. The best of both worlds,_ the text declares boldly.

"Are you planning a trip, Addison?"

"No. Well, yeah, I just ... I need to get out of the trailer," she admits, closing the book. It's her _Best of Seattle_ guide, of course; she moves it from hand to hand now, almost nervously.

"You wanted to get _into_ the trailer," he reminds her.

She pushed it and pushed it. _How can we fix things if we're not living together?_

 _I'm not moving out of the trailer._

 _Then I'll move into it!_

It was a dare at first, a retort, a challenge.

And then it was their new reality.

"I know I did," she admits. "I wanted to be with you. I _want_ to be with you. But ... did I want half my clothes on the porch? Did I want to have to choreograph our every movement to try to fit into the space? Did I want to sleep on glorified air mattress?"

"Tell me how you really feel, Addie."

He's joking, but her eyes look hurt. "Yeah." She looks down at the closed guidebook in her hands. "I've tried that."

"Hey." He waits for her to look up at him. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Be passive aggressive, shut me down when I'm trying to ..."

"When you're trying to what? When you're _trying to_ _try_? When _you're_ the one trying it counts, but when I'm –"

"Addison." He cuts her off with a frown, mindful that they're in a public hallway. "Let's just … talk about this later."

"You're the one who wanted to talk about it now!"

Preston Burke glances over at her raised voice – of course he would be listening, he's always available to think the worst of Derek.

Addison is glaring at him, her lips parting to start up again. He takes her arm before she can speak and leads her around the corner for some semblance of privacy. "Yes, I brought it up but … that was before I realized you were going to flip out."

"I'm not _flipping out_ , Derek, I'm _angry_ that you call me passive-aggressive for ... what ... walking into an elevator with you and your mistress?"

"Addison." He moves closer, hoping it will make her lower her voice. Any sense of closeness from this morning, her playful laugh, the way she looked at him over her shoulder, almost ... _saucily ..._ is gone and all he wants to do is make her stop talking. "Enough. We're not talking about this here."

"I'm not a … string-toy you can make talk or not talk whenever you want, Derek! And if I don't do what you say then I'm being passive-aggressive. Or is that _I'm the_ passive aggressive one because _you_ decided to wait until Christmas to tell me you fell in love with Meredith?"

The ensuing silence is louder than her words ... which were loud to begin with.

Loud enough that Derek looks up unwillingly to see George O'Malley, Alex Karev, and the blonde from the lingerie catalogue - Stevens? - standing in a row, their mouths open with identical expressions of surprise.

Addison follows his gaze, and he sees recognition, and then humiliation, register in her eyes.

"Addison -"

"I have to get out of here," she whispers, thrusting something small and metal into his hand, and before he can react she's clacking down the hall in her loud heels, leaving a gust of perfume in her wake.

He looks down at his clenched fist and unfurls his fingers: there, in the center of his palm, is Addison's key to the trailer.

..

She's gone before he can follow her.

That's what he tells himself as he moves through his day; he knows from glancing at the board that her schedule is as packed as his, and when he doesn't catch sight of her long red hair winking around the corner he assumes it's because she's rushing between consults.

The trailer key was Addison being Addison. It doesn't mean anything.

But then he checks the board again, and her name is gone.

"She left," Nurse Lopez says simply. "We rescheduled her non-emergent procedures."

"Dr. Shepherd left?"

"Montgomery-Shepherd, yes."

"Left … where?"

"I don't know, Dr. Shepherd, I'm sorry."

"How can you not – " He realizes he's raised his voice. "Thank you," he says quickly. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry too."

..

 _Where is she?_

He considers this while he lectures a high school football player on the dangers of repeated concussions.

"You don't look like you ever played football," the kid scowls. He's only sixteen and already a head taller than Derek, at least seventy-five pounds heavier.

"I didn't," Derek admits. "But my best friend did."

 _And brain damage would explain a lot._

Finished, satisfied when the young player agrees to take a month off, Derek stands in front of the Addison-less board one more time. Her name is just … _gone_ , wiped clean.

He dials her number; it goes straight to voicemail. He checks her locker – not really sure why – he's never asked her for her combination, but of course it will be his birthday with the month and date switched, like always.

The lock clicks open, and her street clothes are gone. She's left the hospital.

He tries her phone again.

Nothing.

She's not at the trailer; his face burns at that realization, since the key is heavy in his pocket.

She's left the hospital, but … to go where?

With a start he realizes he has no idea who he would ask about where she is.

In New York it would be easy. He'd start with Mark – he grimaces at that, but it's true – and move on to Carla, from her cohort, who left surgery and now takes all of Addison's OB consults; they still have coffee twice a week without fail when the other doctor holds hours at the hospital. Then the two residents who shadow her, Keisha and – he can't remember the other one's name, just that she follows Addison around a little _too_ closely sometimes, seeming to keep the same schedule she does, timing her procedures around her supervisor's. And then there's Charlene, her favorite Peds nurse. Charlene always knew where Addison was; they worked together seamlessly, closer than colleagues. Friends. Addison was the one who pushed Charlene to apply to NP school, wrote her recommendations.

It wasn't just the hospital, he'd call Savvy, and then his sister Nancy, Addison's partner in crime.

The point is, in New York … he could ask any number of people where Addison is.

Here in Seattle?

He glances to the left and to the right, like he's missing something.

Could it be that he's the only person here keeping track of her whereabouts?

A distressing image flickers into his mind. It's four years ago – almost five now, and they're tromping through a hospital lobby where bulletin boards are still lined with fading faces of the missing.

Addison's fingers are clenched in his; he wraps an arm around her to pull her close. The signs always seemed to upset her. They upset everyone, but … _it's the people who didn't have anyone, anyone to notice they were missing,_ she whispered, her voice thick, _if they disappeared, who would put up signs?_

He just held her close, that morning, because those months were a jumble of fear and pain and flyers curling up at the edges because the missing weren't found. Not the way the signs intended, anyway.

He shakes the image clear from his head. Addison feared loneliness, he knows this. She needed people, attention, _notice._

Then why did she leave everything behind in New York, her friends, her colleagues, her home … ?

He knows the answer.

He just doesn't want to think it.

 _For me. She did it for me._

..

"Dr. Grey..."

"Derek?" She turns away from the nurses' desk, looking confused when she sees his expression ... and a little anxious. "Are you all right?"

"Meredith." He turns to her, scanning her face, reading her familiar features. "Would you notice, if I went missing?"

She blinks, then lowers her voice. "Derek … are you … suicidal?"

"What? No, of course not. I'm just asking."

"Okay. Well, yeah, I guess I would. So would a bunch of other people, though," she says quickly. "The Chief. Burke, because you two are rivals-"

"No, we're not."

"Yes, you are. So Burke would notice. And, you know, your wife."

"What about her?"

"She would notice if you were missing."

"Right." Derek looks down at his hands. "Meredith…"

She holds up her own small hand. "Please don't."

"What do you – oh." He should have known. "You heard. Which one told?"

"All of them. Separately, and then together."

 _Interns._ They travel – and gossip – in packs.

"I'm sorry."

"For me, or for Addison?"

He blinks at the unexpected question. "I don't know."

"Derek …"

He lowers his voice. "What Addison said … what _I_ said to her … I was trying to, you know, come clean. I didn't intend for you to find out."

"Well, I did find out."

"And … are you okay?"

She rolls her eyes. "Spare me the concern. I'm not the one who walked out of the hospital."

He stares.

"Yes, I noticed," she confirms. "I was supposed to be on her service today."

 _No wonder she left._

"Meredith," he says apologetically. "Look, I … I haven't been fair to you."

"No, you haven't."

"Or to Addison," he admits. "And now she's … left. And she isn't picking up her phone."

 _And she doesn't have a key to the only place here she could remotely call home … even though I've mostly done everything I can to keep her from feeling like it's her home._

Meredith's eyes widen. "Left ... you mean like back to New York?"

"No. I don't think so. Her locker is still … and she wouldn't leave the hospital without warning; she's a department head."

"You sound different when you talk about her as a doctor," Meredith says. She's looking at him with a curious expression and he sees her a few months ago, on the staircase, questioning him about Addison.

 _What does that mean?_

 _Maybe it means she's a good doctor._

"You were together for all of it," Meredith muses.

"Hm?"

"Medical school," she says. "Internship … residency … fellowships … and now. You did it all together."

"Right," he says briefly, not sure what she's getting at.

"No, it's just ... nice," she says, her expression pensive. "That you … knew each other when you weren't even doctors and now you … now you're both incredible and, you know, you get to see that."

He blinks. "Well, that doesn't mean that I - it doesn't mean that she ..." His voice trails off.

Unwilling images are piercing his mind. Addison in her white coat ceremony, Addison crying in the basement of the library before finals, Addison falling asleep at the bar after they passed their first year, Addison throwing her hat in the air when they graduated, Addison screaming with joy when they matched together, Addison holding the first baby she saved and the first one she lost, Addison accepting an award, Addison beaming at the publication of an article, Addison next to him in scrubs, only her unmistakable eyes visible over her surgical mask. _We're good together._

"I'm sorry, Meredith, what were you saying?"

"Nothing," Meredith says. "It's okay." She pauses. "I hope you find Addison," she adds before she walks away.

 _I hope you find Addison._

But he didn't lose her.

Did he?

How can he lose someone who's been chasing him since she arrived in Seattle, who hasn't given him a moment alone, who's in his trailer, in his bed, in his hospital, in his _face_?

All this time, he pushed her away, but she was here.

 _I just need time_ , that's what he told her. _Just wait for it to pass._

Is their time finally up?

* * *

 _CONTINUED IN PART II._


	2. PART II

_Part II of a three-parter, so make sure you read Part I first. xoxo_

* * *

 ** _Remember when we went to the one place?_**

 ** _.._**

 **PART II**

* * *

He needs to find her.

 _I have to get out of here,_ that's what she said in the hospital hallway, her face stricken, when she realized their argument had been overheard.

 _I need a vacation,_ that's what she told him the day before, pouting on the trailer bed with her pincurls brushing the shoulders of her black top.

And then in between those two memories is Addison standing in the hall paging through her _Best of Seattle_ guide like she once paged through a catalogue of Scottish artisans, asking him to shop with her. Asking him to dine with her. Asking him to _be_ with her.

That picture in the guide – the lodge cut into the side of a mountain, _it's a spa and a lodge,_ Addison had smiled at him, _something for each of us._

What was it called?

He tries hard to remember the name.

Did he ever look at the name?

Did he ever consider going, taking her there?

 _We should go back there,_ he said this morning and her face lit up.

And then he shut her down.

Feeling small, mean, he tries desperately to remember the picture. That's where she is, he's sure of it.

Except all he can summon is the picture. And it's not like Addison climbed directly _into_ her guidebook.

He needs someone who can identify the spa. The lodge. Whatever. Someone who might be familiar with the kind of place Addison liked to vacation.

 _Of course._

"Dr. Burke!"

He finds the other doctors three hallways later and jogs to catch up. "Preston," he corrects himself, remembering their fragile peace.

"Did you need a consult … Derek?"

"No. Well, yes, but not a surgical consult."

Burke's lifts his eyebrows.

"I need you to … help me find a spa." He's well aware of how awkward the request sounds.

"A spa," Burke says doubtfully.

"Well, a lodge and a spa."

"A lodge and a spa," Burke repeats. "Are you planning a vacation?"

"No. …maybe," he concedes. "It's – well, I've seen a picture but I can't remember the name."

"You have the picture?"

"No," Derek admits. "But I can … try to describe it."

"And you think I can identify the … _lodge and a spa_ from your description?"

"It's a _very_ nice place," Derek says.

Burke nods. "Go ahead, then."

Derek pauses, calling up the image in his mind and trying to block out Addison's face, the way she looked … hopeful, and then hurt. He focuses on the picture in the book she was holding. In her _Best of Seattle_ guide, the cover floating into his memory.

 _Seattle hasn't been very … "best" … for you at all, has it, Addie?_

"It's … on a river," Derek says finally.

"Every _very nice place_ in the greater Seattle area is _on a river,_ " Burke informs him.

"With waterfalls."

"I refer you to my previous answer."

"It's kind of … cut into the side of the mountain," Derek says, desperate for help locating the spa; if Burke doesn't recognize it.

"Cama," Burke says abruptly.

"Excuse me?"

"Cama Lodge," he repeats. "It's right on the Snoqualmie."

"Thank you," he says gratefully.

Burke studies his face calmly. "The falls are exquisite this time of year," he says. "I hope you'll make a trip sooner rather than later." He pauses. "It won't do to waste time."

..

Armed with the name of the place, it's easy enough to find directions, throw some things into a bag – including the jar of moisturizer it looks like Addison forgot to pack – toss it into his jeep and start driving.

It's dark by the time he pulls up, and the place looks just like the picture, warm squares of yellow light in a beautifully crafted lodge jutting out from the side of the mountain. In the soft, glowing light he can see the river rushing by just beneath the lodge.

 _Some rooms are situated directly on the river, with stunning view._

No need to wonder which kind of room Addison would select. No matter the premium. She worked hard, incredibly hard, but she was also the one who first taught him to enjoy the finer things in life. Soft sheets. Good wine. The purr of a German-made motor.

And he taught her to enjoy the outdoors, to stop associating fresh air with stultifying evenings at her parents' country club where, as she told him, she was forced to make conversations with girls who snubbed her and boys who alternately ignored and tried to grope her.

Together they hiked trails upstate and in Connecticut, gradually increasing height and distance, marveling in the scenic views.

He proposed to her on one such hike, actually; it was one she almost didn't complete, complaining of exhaustion as they neared the summit. It was the most difficult trail they'd attempted, but he was certain she could complete it.

 _If you do, you'll like what you see,_ he promised her, and she was intrigued enough to believe him or at least to get a second wind because she actually beat him to the top. There, with the Hudson River rushing below them, breathtaking and powerful, he dropped to one knee on the grassy rocks and asked her to give him forever.

Actually, the rushing of the Snoqualmie reminds him a little bit of that view from the summit of rock ledge. The one where she agreed to be his.

Where he promised to be hers.

Where she told him she wanted to take his name.

"Addison Shepherd," he tells the young man at the front desk, who's wearing a flannel shirt – but an expensive one, Derek can easily identify now, thanks to his wife, even if it's studiedly casual. "She's a guest here," he adds, because he knows it's true.

The man clicks through his computer. "Shepherd … Shepherd …"

"I'm her husband," Derek says patiently.

He waits for the man to object, but instead he smiles, and then hands over a little leather envelope with an embossed silver number.

"She left you a key," the man tells him.

His heart speeds up.

 _She left him a key._

So she wasn't running away from him.

Or she was … but she thought he might come find her?

Heartened, he picks up the pace. Inside, the craftsman lodge is as well structured as it is from the outside, with lanterns lending a soft glow and rough hewn beams leaving a naturistic impression.

Finally he reaches the door marked with the same number as his embossed key case. He doesn't have to go inside to know it's directly facing the river.

The door opens.

"Addison."

She blinks. "I thought you were room service," she admits, taking a step back. Her long hair is loose on her shoulders, her face free of makeup. She looks young, and soft. And beautiful.

"I'm not," he says.

"No, I guess you're not." She smiles a little.

"Can I come in?"

She steps back to let him in, and the door swings shut behind him.

"How did you find me, Derek?"

"You left me a key."

"That's not how you found me."

"No, but you left me a key, Addie … so you must have wanted me to find you."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"No," he admits, "I guess it doesn't."

The sound of chimes breaks the silence.

" _That's_ room service," she says, then glances at Derek. "I ordered enough to share..."

"You must have wanted me to find you," he repeats, smiling.

"Only if you wanted to find me."

"I'm here," he says, reaching for the doorknob to accept delivery of her meal. "Aren't I?"

"Yeah," she says softly. "You're here."

..

The food is much like the lodge itself: simple, well crafted, with the illusion of simplicity that only skill – and quality ingredients – can accomplish.

True to her word, she's ordered enough – more than enough – for both of them.

"Addison."

She looks up over the rim of her wine glass.

"Why are you here?"

"I needed a vacation," she says softly. "I told you."

She did tell him.

Repeatedly.

In ways small and big and now … again, here.

"Derek."

He looks over at her.

"Why are you here?"

"I guess I needed a vacation too," he says softly. "And Rhode Island is a little far for a quick getaway."

She toys with the cutlery resting on the bamboo tray. It's heavy and pewter, the kind of little detail Addison loved. If he'd let her, she would have told him all about this place, excitement in her voice, tagging along down the hall, _wait until you see it, Derek, you'll love it._

The thought makes him sad; he distracts himself lifting the glass cover from a plate of fruit.

Not fruit.

Just … grapes.

He glances up at her and she nods slightly.

"So you remember the – "

Her eyes are sparkling. Of course she remembers.

The infamous _place with the bed,_ the endless impossibly soft white duvet where they sprawled naked and fed each other grapes to replenish – exhausted by each other's passion, and their own.

"But you didn't know I'd show up," he pushes, keeping his tone light. "What would you have done with the grapes if I didn't?"

"Eaten them," she says.

"All of them?"

"Probably."

"That sounds like it would make you sick."

"Then it's a good thing you showed up," she says softly.

"I agree." He takes the grape from her fingers with his lips.

..

They need to talk.

They need to talk but they also need to touch; they need to speak to each other with lips and hands and he promises himself they'll clear the air after he's pushed the plush terrycloth from her shoulders and kissed every dip of her clavicle. She melts in his arms but then fends him off, leading him across the large airy room.

"Addie?"

She points him toward a rough-hewn wooden door, and he tugs her back with alarm when he sees it leads to a spa.

"Addison … you're not wearing any clothes."

"I know," she assures him, "but it's a private spa."

"A private spa."

"Just for us."

"I know what private means," he teases her. "But … really?"

"Really." She tugs him in by the hand and then he's enveloped in soft light and the clean, relaxing scent of sage. A huge tub styled like a Swedish soaking pool is waiting for them, fragrant cedar rising from the wet wood.

Addison flicks a switch and he hears the water start to bubble.

The tub is already full.

"You really didn't know I was coming," he says doubtfully.

"I would have taken a bath either way." She looks at him. "But, Derek … I'm really glad you came."

"Me too," he says.

She leans in for a kiss, and then he gestures toward the wooden ladder. "After you," he says.

..

They need to talk.

With voices, and with hands.

With every word they can say and not say and this is the place they choose to do it.

In the fragrant bubbling water, that's what they do. They talk, their voices a low hum over the sound of the jets and the soft sound of something soothing – raindrops? That must be coming from some kind of machine but sounds so natural that perhaps the spa just brings in its own rain.

And in periods of silence and soft words hands mold to the familiar shapes of each other, lips meeting in the middle.

It's dark enough for privacy, to touch each other's bodies without needing to question, but light enough that he can see her eyes darken with appreciation, heavy-lidded and impossibly beautiful as he strokes her soft skin.

In the dark they could be in Seattle or New York. They could be married or engaged or dating, thirty-nine or twenty-two.

In the dark they're just … Derek and Addison.

 _Addison and Derek,_ she would correct him.

In the dark, time falls away with the bubbling jets and the hot water and when she holds him close he remember exactly the way she feels.

..

"Derek."

Her voice is soft, faraway, she's leaning against him as the water rocks both of them.

"Yeah, Addie." He strokes her bare arm, the skin supple and warm under his fingers.

"I … need to tell you something." Her voice shakes slightly.

"Nothing good ever started that way," he observes, his tone still mild.

Because he's not afraid.

Not yet.

Not until he turns just a little bit … and sees her eyes.

..

"Derek, please."

"Let go of me," he says coldly, regret coursing through his veins as he tries to push her off of him.

"Please, Derek!" She clutches him. "Please, you have to listen to me."

"I just did. Now I'm done listening."

"Please, Derek, please just try to understand – "

"I understand perfectly. I understand you stayed with Mark after I left. I understand you didn't bother to tell me when you showed up in Seattle and asked me to take you back. I und

"I was _devastated_. When you left. You didn't return my calls, and I was devastated, and –"

"So devastated that you went right back to screwing my best friend," he snaps.

"Derek, please!"

"No. Let go of me, Addison, I mean it."

But she doesn't. She hangs on tightly and the intimacy of their positions, one of her legs thrown over his with desperation if not passion – jars him juxtaposed with the anger coursing through him.

How can they fight like this, their bodies entangled, making love as surely as their words make war?

"Derek, please."

It's wrong.

It _hurts._

It's … marriage, with all its indignities, its blend of mundanity and mortality. First and last. Everything and nothing. The past and the future all at once.

But his present is here, she wears a ring and he doesn't, she's clinging to him desperately and he's pushing at her hips, trying to separate their bodies.

Trying … and failing.

"Addison, _let go of me._ " His voice is louder, angrier; he manages to shove her leg off of him but she just clings tighter in response.

"No," she says, and she flinches when he reaches for her but then seems to gird herself, sitting up straighter as she hangs on.

"Addison!"

"No! You can push me off and … throw me out, but I'm not going anywhere. Please, Derek, you can hate me, I deserve it, fine, but I'm not going anywhere."

Her arms are locked around his neck, hot teary breath against his skin. His hands close on her wrists.

Hard.

She's strong but he's stronger, he could pull her off him by force, push her out the door like he did in New York. Listen to her sob and beg him to let her in.

For a moment they both freeze.

Maybe both remembering.

And then at the same time, he releases her wrists … and she releases him.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and he shivers as the warmth of her body leaves his, "I won't stay if you don't want me to, it's my fault, Derek, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry …"

He doesn't speak, just takes her wrist in his hand, rubbing gently at the marks his grip left behind. She's so forceful that sometimes he forgets how sensitive she is. How impressionable. They've been leaving marks on each other for years; it's just they didn't used to be the kind that hurt.

"I should have told you," she says, her voice low and trembling. "I should have told you when I got here but I was terrified, Derek, that if you knew you'd never want to speak to me again. And maybe now you don't." Her voice shakes. "And I … it's not fair to ask you to. To … beg, even if I want to, because it's my fault."

 _My fault_ , she said.

Her fault.

He wants to hear it, in a way. Doesn't he? Wants her to fall on her sword and take responsibility, wants to punish her for the immense betrayal of seeing her head thrown back, long white neck arched in pleasure, of the way she plunged the knife directly into their marital bed.

That … was her fault.

And he could focus on that. And he has, and maybe he should, but somewhere in the back of his mind the _clack clack_ of her shoes intercedes, walking toward him, not away from him – following him. Asking, taking, demanding. In New York, in Seattle.

In their marriage.

 _Derek, can we talk?_

 _Derek, is everything okay?_

 _Derek, are you coming home for dinner tonight?_

Her voice, sometimes strident, sometimes tremulous. _Derek._ Always his name; no one said his name like she did. Over and over. Never satisfied.

 _Derek, please…_

Not that he tried to satisfy her, in the end.

In the end … and in what led up to the end.

 _Not now, Addison._

 _Everything's fine, Addison._

 _Not tonight, Addison._

She plunged the knife into their marriage but he exposed its weak underbelly, left it there for her to destroy along with Mark.

It's simple pathology: neglecting the marriage weakened it, left it vulnerable to attack from the affair.

"It's your fault," he says quietly. "But … it's mine too. Not the lying," he adds, "but the … but I was absent. In New York, before Mark … I was indifferent, and I was absent, and … I'm sorry."

Her lips part; she looks truly surprised. It's not easy to surprise Addison; her mind is so agile, so quick and strategic, that she's almost always several moves ahead of him.

She closes her mouth – it looks like it takes some effort – and then slowly, softly, she smiles at him.

Just like that the tension melts out of his body like water and the distance between them closes. All this time and he had no idea an apology could be so freeing.

… or that it would be his apology that would do it.

..

"Derek?"

He turns at the sound of his name, the way only she can say it. They're standing side by side on the terrace in pillowy white robes, watching the majestic waterfall pound the rocks on the opposite shore. Starlight illuminates her face when he turns to her.

"Do you think … that you can forgive me? That we can get past this and … " She pauses, sounding almost shy. "And be Addison and Derek again?"

"Derek and Addison," he corrects her automatically, and a smile twitches the corner of her mouth. It falls away at his next words. "I don't know if we can."

Her lips tremble.

"Addie, wait." Gently, he guides her face back towards him; he drops his hand but she doesn't drop his gaze.

"I don't know if we can. But I do know … that I want to try," he says quietly. "Really try, this time. Not just talk about trying."

He's playing with her fingers now, rubbing the familiar cool metals he slipped onto her hand eleven years ago.

"Really try," Addison echoes softly.

"Really try," he says firmly. "Really try this time. Is that enough? Do you think you can give me time, Addie?"

Her fingers rise to trace the stubble on his jaw; he turns and kisses them like he used to and when he looks up, he sees tears in her eyes. More than tears; they're reflecting the crescent moon.

"Yes," she whispers. "I can give you time."

* * *

 _One more part to go... but feel free to review this one. :)_


	3. PART III

**This is the last part - really an epilogue - so don't read it until you've read the other three, please!**

* * *

 _ **Remember when we went to the one place?**_

 **..**

 **PART III (Epilogue)**

* * *

A gentle rain falls outside, pattering the windows in soothingly rhythmic drizzle.

Pale morning light filters inside between the raindrops.

"Remember when we went to the one place?"

Addison's voice is soft with musing. Derek leans his head out of the bathroom to see her, tube of toothpaste in his hand.

Addison is standing outside the open door, head tilted slightly. Her eyes are sparkling with reminiscence, lit up by the deep blue of her shirt.

He lines toothpaste carefully on the yellow toothbrush as he speaks: "The place with the bed?"

"No, not the bed ... " She shakes her head. "That was the other place."

A small hand reaches for the toothbrush he's holding.

"I do it," the little boy attached to the hand insists.

"Hang on, Teddy Bear, let Daddy go first and then you can have a turn." Derek ruffles the toddler's chestnut curls, poised to clean his mouthful of new sharp teeth.

He looks up at Addison, who's holding their swaddled daughter in her arms to feed her, stroking her cheek as she suckles.

"The place with the spa," Derek says, a smile spreading on his face as memory overtakes him, still gently brushing their son's teeth.

"The spa," she smiles. "The private spa … and the robes …"

"My turn," Teddy interrupts around a mouthful of toothpaste; Derek finishes brushing and lets the little boy have a moment to move the toothbrush around, mainly just enjoying the foamy paste.

"And the terrace," Addison adds, smiling at her son, who giggles when a fleck of toothpaste hits the sink.

"The terrace with the waterfall," Derek says.

"That was a great terrace," Addison sighs.

"Spit," Teddy requests, and Derek helps him onto the little wooden stool that bears his name in colorful letters, watching him rinse his mouth. Then he looks up at Addison.

"A really great terrace," he adds.

"No one spit up on me there," Addison jokes, pausing to kiss the top of their daughter's bald little head as if she might be offended.

"We should go back there," Derek says abruptly, patting Teddy's face dry gently with a bright yellow towel, then lifting him into his arms.

"Yeah?" Addison smiles.

"Yeah. ... Yeah," he says again, "when Teddy's a little older. After all, it's where he - "

"Derek!"

He just grins at her scolding tone and leans in for a kiss, careful of their suckling infant daughter between them.

Addison laughs, and then Derek laughs, and then Teddy laughs too.

At six weeks old, Florence is a little too young to laugh, just nursing contentedly in her mother's arms ... but that's all right.

There will be plenty of time to tell the story again when she's older.

They have all the time in the world.

* * *

 _THE END.  
God, I am such Addek trash. Blame **simbagirl** for the prompt and the deleted scenes for their perfection. Review and let me know you're part of the revolution! (or just that you enjoyed it, and you're a pacifist). Either way, I hope you'll let me know what you think!_


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